


Pendragon Red

by merlin_the_dragonlord



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4144305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlin_the_dragonlord/pseuds/merlin_the_dragonlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's cloak is important to Merlin. More than anyone would ever imagine.</p>
<p>
  <i>This is the closest that Merlin will get to being in Arthur's arms again. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pendragon Red

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this post by mykingdomscome on tumblr. 
> 
> This story isn't beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

It all started on a hunting trip with the knights. Winter was quickly approaching and Merlin hadn’t foreseen how cold it was going to be in the dead of night. It was his turn to keep watch and he resisted the urge to cast a spell to keep warm, knowing that his proximity to the knights made it a huge risk to cast magic. He shivered as he moved closer to the dying embers of the fire and he poked half-heartedly at the sparks with a stick in an attempt to keep the fire going. Some sparks flew upwards and he recoiled a little from the glowing ashes, before abandoning the stick and wrapping his arms around himself, rubbing his hands up and down to create some friction.

“Merlin?” The warlock turned around and looked up at Arthur, who had emerged from his tent.

“Go back to sleep, Arthur.” Merlin fought to keep the bitterness out of his voice as he thought longingly of Arthur’s warm fur blankets.

“You’re shivering.” There was a concern in his voice.

Irritation gave way to weariness as Merlin watched his breath condense into puffs. “It’s cold.” He said tiredly.

He heard Arthur step towards him, leaves crunching under his boots. Something draped over him and Merlin looked up, surprised to see Arthur wrapping his cloak around him. “What are you doing?”

“You should take care of yourself more, _Merlin_.” Arthur’s face was fond as he stared down at his manservant’s face. “After all, I can’t have my servant freezing in the middle of the night. What kind of king would that make me?”

Merlin was speechless as he wrapped the cloak tighter around him. It suddenly became warmer, and he wasn’t entirely sure if it was all because of the cloak.

It seemed to dawn upon Arthur how ridiculously sentimental his actions were and he coughed. “Finish off your watch and be sure to wake Leon when it’s his turn.” He said commandingly and flushed when Merlin gave a light laugh.

“Yes, sire.” Merlin smiled. “Thank you, Arthur.”

* * *

The rest of the castle would swear that they saw this coming, until their dying day. After a series of poor decisions on their part, Merlin woke up in bed, naked, entwined with an equally as naked Arthur. He had attempted to extricate himself from the king, but he had found himself more trapped as Arthur tightened his grip. The sensation of bare skin against his sent a jolt of arousal through his body but he refused to think more on it, focusing his attentions on trying to escape from the grasp of a very warm and very sleep-tousled Pendragon. He wanted to laugh, who knew that the mighty King of Camelot was such a cuddler? Eventually, he succeeded in his escape efforts and ignored the unhappy grumblings from the bed and began to search for his clothes. He couldn’t find anything in the near vicinity of the bed and he was becoming more and more uncomfortable in his state of undress. A flash of red caught his eye and he saw Arthur’s cloak on the trunk at the foot of the bed. Well, it would have to do for now. He wrapped the cloak around himself and went on a search to find his clothing… which somehow had been thrown across the chambers. He padded over and bent over to pick up his trousers, when he heard a sharp, “Merlin” from behind him. Straightening up, he turned and was startled to find Arthur sitting up with a look of displeasure. “Don’t ever let Gwaine challenge me to a drinking contest again.” His voice was croaky as he rubbed his temples, obviously suffering the effects of a hangover. He finally looked up at Merlin and his eyes widened. “Is that…?”

Merlin flushed bright red as he drew the red cloth tighter around him. He waved the trousers in his hand around. “Found my clothing.” He said quickly in an attempt to distract Arthur. “I’m just going to go get dressed now and we can pretend this never happened.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and stood up from his bed, ignoring Merlin’s squeak and attempts to avert his eyes. He stalked over to his manservant in all of his naked glory, eyes darkening with lust as he looked Merlin up and down. “You know, _Merlin_. Pendragon red suits you.” Merlin backed up from the advancing king and let out a small yelp when his back hit the wall and he found himself pinned in by Arthur’s body. “I like it.” There was a mouth on his and his body was pressed harder against the wall as Arthur stepped in closer.

The kiss ended and Merlin gasped when he felt Arthur hardening against his thigh. “Prat.” He muttered, embarrassed.

“I seem to recall you begging me for more last night.” Arthur teased softly, resting his forehead on Merlin’s and smiling. “In fact, I distinctly remember you calling me God.”

“Pretty sure God wouldn’t approve of the things you did to me last night.” Merlin shot back, laughing.

A predatory look overcame Arthur’s face and in one swift movement, he hoisted Merlin, cloak and all, over his shoulder. “I’ll show you a few more things he wouldn’t approve of.” He stalked back over to the bed and threw Merlin down, staring hungrily down at the pale figure.

Arthur climbed onto the bed and crawled over Merlin before grabbing the edge of his hunting cloak. It was thrown over the side of the bed as Arthur wrenched it away from Merlin and leaned down for a hard kiss.

* * *

 It became a commonplace occurrence to see Merlin in the King’s chambers at all times of the day, and at night, although everyone would deny ever seeing their new Court Sorcerer entering the royal chambers and not leaving until the morning.

“Arthur, where are my clothes?” Merlin was wandering around the chambers, the red cloak wrapped around him. It made the king unhappy at how self-conscious Merlin was about his body, but he was slowly working on making his lover more comfortable being in a constant state in undress in his- _their-_ room.

“Oh, those ragged things? I had them taken away and burnt.” Arthur waved a dismissive hand as he sat at his table to break his fast. He didn’t have to look up to see Merlin’s face transform from shock to annoyance.

“And pray tell, how am I supposed to leave your chambers without my clothing?” Merlin asked tightly.

“You can borrow my tunic.” Arthur shrugged. He gestured for Merlin to come closer. The warlock sighed and did so, shuffling over and sitting down on Arthur’s lap. The blond secured his lover to him and smiled fondly at the disgruntled brunet. “Now eat something.” The fabric of the cloak was a little irritating against his bare manhood, but it was worth having Merlin in his arms.

“You’re a prat.” Merlin grumbled, but shifted to reach a hand out to pluck some grapes off the plate.

“Your prat.” Arthur replied, nipping at the nape of Merlin’s neck, eliciting a yelp. “And you’re mine.” Merlin really did look good in Pendragon red. He would look even better with a crown on his head.

* * *

Together, they led Camelot into a reign of unrivaled peace and prosperity. They wed after three years and Merlin was officially crowned King, much to his displeasure. Arthur privately thought that his husband looked dashing when he was wearing a crown. They were happy. The kingdom was flourishing and magic was prospering once again.

But the peace wouldn’t last. The Saxons, hearing of the rich kingdom, had attacked. Arthur rode out to battle and insisted that his consort remain in Camelot. It made Merlin unhappy, but he knew that both kings riding out into battle invited more invasions and Morgana was still out there. It was with tears in his eyes that he bid Arthur farewell.

The days grew into weeks and Merlin grew more and more anxious. The only thing that brought him comfort was Arthur’s cloak, which he left behind in favor for his spare one. He would lie in bed at night, unable to sleep, wrapped in the rich fabric that retained the earthy scent of his love. Fervently, he prayed to the Gods and Goddesses of both the New and Old Religion that Arthur would return to him safe and sound.

* * *

He was supposed to be the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth. He was supposed to help Arthur unite all of Albion. He was supposed to grow old with Arthur. There was so much they were supposed to do together, but that fateful day at Camlann put a stop to their entwined path.

_“ARTHUR!” Merlin saw the king fall to his knees and he screamed, pure magic coursing through him. The battle stilled around him, silence replaced the clang of swords. He ran through the frozen bodies of the fighters, focused solely on getting to Arthur. When he collapsed alongside his lover, he saw the wound in his abdomen was bleeding profusely, so much more than a normal wound should have been. Pressing his fingers to the jagged edges, he pinched the skin together and began incanting. When those healing spells worked, desperation led him to pouring raw magic into Arthur, ignoring the knowledge that this could easily kill him. It didn’t matter. As long as Arthur lived._

_A gloved hand rested on top of his and his concentration was broken. The battle resumed behind them, but the only thing that Merlin could see was the quickly paling face of his king. “Don’t leave me.” He whispered, terror filling him when he realized that this could be it. “I need you.”_

_“You were always too good for me.” Arthur said softly, a smile on his face. “I’m happy that you’re here.”_

_“You’re going to be fine, Arthur. I swear on my life.” Merlin closed his eyes and teleported them to the banks of the Lake of Avalon. He held Arthur in his arms and looked out to the lake. It was still and peaceful, such a contrast to the blood being spilled at Camlann. “I’m going to make you better. I’m going to find a way to reverse this, we’re going to go home to Camelot and you’re going to be hailed as the greatest king that Albion ever had.”_

_“Merlin.” That one word put a stop to Merlin’s stream of words. “I’m dying.” Merlin felt grief tear through him, mixed in with the pure, unadulterated terror that things were going to end this way. “Just… Hold me.” His grip on Arthur tightened. He was afraid that if he didn’t, he was going to start shaking. It scared Merlin how at peace Arthur seemed with this. As if he knew it was coming. “Take care of yourself.” Merlin let out a laugh that sounded too close to a sob for his comfort. Too many nights had ended with an argument of how Merlin was too invested in taking care of others and neglected to care for himself. “I love you.” Arthur’s hand found the back of his head and he brought their lips together. It was during this kiss that Merlin felt Arthur go completely limp and he shut his eyes, not willing to believe it. King Arthur was dead._

It was the ten-year anniversary of Arthur’s death. Merlin was still king, loathe as he was to return to the throne after Camlann. But he had taken an oath. He ruled the way Arthur would have wanted him to and Camelot continued to prosper. It brought little happiness to the sorcerer, who still felt the absence of his other half from his life.

Every night, when he retired to his chambers, the first thing he did was bring out Arthur’s cloak and lie in bed with the fabric around him. Tears would spring to his eyes as he recounted his day to Arthur, pretending that he was there. Sometimes, he imagined Arthur’s arms embracing him, but that illusion would quickly shatter when he remembered that he had failed. That would cause him to wrap the cloak around him tighter. It was the closest thing he would get to ever being in Arthur’s safe embrace ever again.

The red was a stark reminder of all of his failures, but at the same time, it held memories of happier times. It reminded him of the blood that stained Arthur’s chainmail and his own fingers at the battle of Camlann. It reminded him of the blood that spilled from Morgana’s body as he thrust Excalibur through her heart. It reminded him of the fire that burned so fiercely when they burned the bodies of those he couldn’t protect. It also reminded him of Arthur’s coronation, the blond dressed splendidly in the red of the cloak. It reminded him of the banner that flew as they marched into battle and again as they claimed victory over Morgana’s army. It reminded him of the fires that burned in their chambers as they made love to each other, whispering promises of forever. It was those memories that he wanted to forget, but couldn’t. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see what shenanigans I get up to, come follow me [here](%E2%80%9Dmerlin-the-dragonlord.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D). 
> 
> Reviews make me happier than anything, so please take some time to let me know what you think of this story!


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